All was quiet and peaceful.
As he sat there, Mr. Brooks heard steps on the path.
He looked down and saw a little girl. In her arms was a cat, with a black spot over one eye.
The child stumbled as she walked. She seemed ready to drop, she was so tired.
“Why, little girl, where did you come from?” cried Mr. Brooks.
He got up and went down to meet her.
Then she raised her pale face, and he saw that it was Clematis. Her face and hands were soiled; her hair was tangled; her dress was dusty and torn.
“Oh, little maid,” he said. “Did you walk way over here to see me?”
“Yes,” said Clematis, faintly. “I said I would, and I did.”
“Dear child, you are worn out. Come in and rest.”